


this is how i feel about you (twilight)

by nctittaphon



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Flirting, Lots of Crying, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Plot With Porn?, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Slow Burn, hongjoong and seonghwa are the wise parents, san and yunho break up but they're still friends don't worry, soft sex my guy, that's more accurate, woosan are horny, you can read it as poly for a minute if you so please
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 11:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18249314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nctittaphon/pseuds/nctittaphon
Summary: i don't update regularly! there will be long stretches of time with nothing, so please be warnedMaybe, just maybe, the universe aligned to make this happen. Maybe it decided that San would make all the wrong decisions and that those wrong decisions would end up being all the right decisions. Maybe it wanted to just make his big gay heart flutter and his big gay brain twist.Whatever it was, he didn't appreciate it. He didn't appreciate how Wooyoung's perfect nose scrunched up when he laughed. He didn't appreciate how Wooyoung's eyes looked at him with such kindness. He didn't appreciate how round Wooyoung's ass was in his leather pants.San really didn't appreciate lying to himself.





	1. tell me somethin' just before you go (tell me somethin' i don't already know)

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely self indulgent because i love woosan 
> 
> this is also my first time posting and I'm not used to writing this kinda thing so be nice

San was lost. Completely and utterly lost, staring at the screen of his phone with a frown plastered on his face. 

_Yunho: San, we need to talk._

San wasn't at all sure what this meant. Upside down in his desk chair, head hanging off the seat, his brain understood it even less. It wasn't the worst text to receive, he tried to tell himself. Of course not. Yunho just wanted to have a nice conversation, that was all. There was no reason for San to be afraid of this. They were perfect, solid, just fine.

Except that Yunho was his boyfriend. And Yunho had been acting weird, distant, distracted. San had chalked it up to him being stressed about exams and graduation, which, give San a break, didn't seem like all that much of a stretch. San wasn't a mind reader, so he had to work with what he knew. This is what he knew:

1\. It's finals week

2\. Yunho is moving to a new university 

3\. They had been going strong for two years

4\. Yunho was acting weird

5\. San had just received The Text, complete with punctuation and his name

So, of course, like any other rational person, San was freaking out a little bit. And maybe he had shouted "Fuck!" and dropped his phone to the floor, but that's none of his business.

"San? Are you okay?" Okay, if Wooyoung was asking him that from where he was out in the living room, then maybe it  _was_ his business. He let out a pained groan.

"Not really." Oh wow. Hanging his head off the seat of his desk chair was  _not_ a good idea. He could hear Wooyoung walking toward his room, heard him pass the threshold and let out a sigh.

"What's wrong?" He asks, and San, despite being upside down, can see the unimpressed look on his face.

"A lot."

"Tell me the most prevalent. Please." 

San pointed at his phone on the floor, defeated, "That."

Wooyoung sighed once again.

"Don't sigh at me, dude! It's a big thing!" He threw his hands up in defeat. Or down, as gravity would have it.

"What is, San? Get out of the chair and come sit down and then tell me." Wooyoung said, and then grabbed for San's ankles, unceremoniously dumping him onto the floor before hauling him back up onto the bed. He picked up San's phone from the floor and stared intently down at the screen.

Another text came in.

_Yunho: Sooner rather than later, San. Please._

Oh, God.

"See?!" San screeched and gestured wildly toward the phone in Wooyoung's hand, "This can't be good, man!"

Wooyoung looked at him. San couldn't quite discern what sat behind his eyes, but something glimmered there.

"Okay. First of all, calm down. I can see you're almost crying and you need to chill before that actually happens," Wooyoung said, "This isn't the end of the world, San. Just ask him when and where, go talk, and see what happens, okay?"

"No, God, Wooyoung. No." San curled himself up and buried his face into his knees, rolling back onto the bed, "It's not that easy."

"Yes it is, hon'," Wooyoung set his hand on San's knee, "Get it over with."

"No."

San heard Wooyoung suck in a breath, "Too bad. I texted him," He said, and flopped down beside San.

"You did what?" San felt like all of the air had been punched out of him, "Why would you do that?"

"Because you need to deal with this head on," Wooyoung looked down at San's phone, "He wants to see you today. At the cafe."

And oh. Okay. San was crying now. Wooyoung turned on his side, reaching out and grabbing San's hand between his, "It's gonna be okay, San. What's the worst that can happen?"

"I don't know. He tells me he has terminal cancer? He breaks up with me? He's cheating on me? I don't know, Wooyoung!" San was blubbering now. 

"What are you the most afraid of?" Wooyoung asked.

"Him breaking up with me." San said, "I don't know how I'd deal with that."

"San, I've been your roommate for how many years?"

"Four." San knew his voice was ragged and weak.

"Exactly. And we've known each other for longer. I've been with you through some tough shit. Remember Jaeseok?" Wooyoung reached his hand up and moved San's hair off of his forehead, wiping his cheeks, "We'll get through this, whatever it is. And if he breaks up with you, I'll sit on the couch with you while you eat ice cream and cry. It'll be okay."

"And cuddles?" San felt selfish for asking, but he'd take what he could worm out of Wooyoung. 

"Of course. Always cuddles." Wooyoung said. And then it was quiet as San watched Wooyoung relax beside him, San's phone still in his hand. The screen lit up again.

_Yunho: Can you meet me now?_

San's heart picked up and he gently tugged the phone out of Wooyoung's hand. Wooyoung popped an eye open. 

"What's up?" He asked.

"Yunho wants me to meet him now." 

"Just my opinion, but go." Wooyoung said, "I have a date with Mari, but I can put together an outfit that might make you feel good about yourself." 

"Okay." San whispered, "Don't make me look to slutty, please."

"Never." Wooyoung winked and bounced up from the bed. 

Within fifteen minutes, Wooyoung had replied to Yunho for San, and San had been slipped into a pair of (arguably very nice, if not a little big) slacks. Wooyoung was pulling a turtleneck over San's head before he could argue, instructing San to tuck it in and slap a thick belt around his waist (all himself because "as much as I love you, I don't want your dick in my hand today" "what the fuck, wooyoung?"). 

"Now you put on the Doc's and your fluffy coat and you'll be fine." Wooyoung said. 

"You have such child bearing hips." San was busy patting at the excess material around his own hips, staring pointedly at Wooyoung. 

"I can take my pants back and you can go ass naked, if you want." Wooyoung deadpanned.

"I was just sayin'. I like these pants. I might steal them." He smiled for a moment.

"I dare you," Wooyoung said and San cackled, "Oh! And this."

Wooyoung quickly uncapped a tinted lip balm discarded on San's dresser and dabbed on San's mouth, smudging it out with his ring finger. He then ran his hand back through San's hair, evening it out.

"Done. Lovely. You'll stun all the boys." Wooyoung let out a giggle at his handiwork.

"Obviously didn't work," San said.

Wooyoung frowned, "Why?"

"You're still functioning just fine." With a laugh and a high screech, he punched Wooyoung in the shoulder, grabbed his shoes, and slipped out of his room. 

"Shut up, you bastard! I don't count!" Wooyoung caught him in the entryway, landing punches to his shoulder.

"Ow! Ow, ow ow, okay! I was kidding!" San surrendered and sat down on the floor to pull his boots on.

"I believe in you, San. Call me if you need anything." Wooyoung offered his fist and San bumped his against it.

"Thanks."

And then the apartment door shut behind him and he was alone in the cold outside with only his thoughts to keep him company. It wasn't a long walk to the campus cafe, barely even a quarter mile, but it was cold and San felt like he could either vomit, pass out, or fall over at any time. His mind was elsewhere, making up every little worst case scenario from He Just Wanted To Get Coffee to He Is Calling Me Here To Kill Me Because I Am Gay And He Hates Me. Which, no, didn't make any sense, considering the fact that Yunho had been kissing him and holding his hand and having regular sex with him for the past two years. God, San, you're such an idiot. He became aware that he was wringing his hands when he almost zoomed right past the cafe out of anxiety. 

Before he could push the door open, Yunho came out, holding two steaming cups of coffee and a smile smashed all wonky on his face. Christ, he was beautiful. 

"I got your favorite." He said before stepping to the side and sitting down at one of the outside tables. 

"Isn't it cold out here, Yunho?" San asked as he perched himself on the other chair, tense and ready to flee if necessary. 

"I don't need other people around for this." Yunho's voice was warm. But San felt something off about what he was saying.

"Okay," He said, pulling the coffee towards him to warm his hands, "What do you want to talk about?"

Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at San, "I care about you a lot, San. I want you to know that. And... and I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose."

San knew it. He knew it! He frowned and narrowed his eyes at Yunho.

"Don't look at me like that, San. You know it's true."

"Quit buttering me up and tell me what you came here to say, Yunho." San could feel his head buzzing and he was vaguely aware of his face splitting into a small, crude smile.

"I-uh. Uhm. I don't. I don't love you like I used to," Yunho whispered, "There's... God, there's someone else."

San stared blankly into Yunho's eyes. Those deep eyes that had held his whole world for a while. They'd been the bearer of happiness, so sparkly and beautiful and perfect. Now San saw nothing. Well, it wasn't that. They were the same eyes, they just meant nothing to San. And, fuck, did it hurt. He still saw those perfect, sparkly, beautiful eyes. He still saw perfect Yunho. But this Yunho didn't love him back anymore.

"Who is it?" San asked.

Yunho heaved a great sigh and stayed quiet. 

"Come on, Yunho. At least tell me who you love now. Just give me something." San pleaded.

"It's Mingi. Your Mingi," Yunho said, "I'm so sorry."

San looked down at the drink in front of him and shifted it in half circles on the table, "No. You're not sorry. Don't be sorry for loving him. I know that you can't control who you love, Yunho." 

"I don't want to lose you for good, San. I don't want this to be the last time we talk." Yunho picked at his fingernails, avoided looking at San.

"And it won't be. But let it be for now." San could barely believe the words he was saying. He was devastated, but Yunho didn't get to know that. 

"Okay. Thank you, San." He looked back up with a genuine smile that made San ache, "I have an exam I need to get to, on the weekend at that, so I guess I'll see you around."

And he stood from the table, his chair scraping the stone in the worst way, grabbed his coffee and left. Left San and his untouched cup of what he assumed was a mocha latte to go cold. San tried not to watch Yunho's perfectly round behind as he walked away, which proved not too difficult when his eyes went blurry with tears. With a shaking hand, San reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, fumbling for Wooyoung's number. He picked up on the third ring.

"What's up, Sannie?" Wooyoung's voice was soft.

San pulled in a shaking breath, "Can-can you come an-nd walk me home? I-hhm. I don't really want to be alone in the col-ld righ-t now." 

"Oh, San. Of course, hon'," Wooyoung said, "Do you mind if Mari comes?"

"No, that's fine. Better, actually. Thank you." San breathed.

"Give us ten minutes and we'll be right there." And Wooyoung hung up.

In ten minutes, maybe more, maybe less; San couldn't tell, he could make out the two of them hurrying toward him from the direction Yunho left. Mari rushed ahead and practically threw herself down into the chair across from San. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of orange juice, opening it and handing it to him. He frowned at her in vague disgust.

"I know you don't particularly like orange juice, but this is fresh squeezed and it'll make you feel better." She shoved it toward him again. This time he took it, his grimace deepening, and took a small sip. Surprisingly good! Okay. He could deal with this. 

Wooyoung stepped up to the table bearing a small paper bag, "I got you some drugs," He said, and stepped away to grab another chair.

"I fuckin' hope not." San grumbled.

Wooyoung giggled, "Open it."

San reached for the bag and gently pulled it open. At the bottom sat a donut from his favorite bakery and a package of Swedish Fish. He let out a laugh.

"You take such good care of me." He said to Wooyoung.

"I gotta," Wooyoung replied, a smile present on his face, "I can't have you breaking down completely on me. Drink the juice first or it'll be gross." 

So San drank the orange juice and downed the donut. Handing the Swedish Fish to Mari, he stood and discarded his trash. Wooyoung stood next and dragged his chair back to its table while Mari walked lightly over to San and shoved a fish into his mouth. 

"Come on," She said around the fish in her mouth, "You need to take a nap after all this."

She grabbed his arm and dragged him along, handing him more fish as they walked. San turned his head to see Wooyoung trailing behind him, soft smile on his face. 

"Wooyoung!" San called, "Hurry up, man!"

When Wooyoung reached them, both he and Mari took one of San's hands into their own and swung his arms back and forth. San was still in his own head, but it felt nice to hold someone's hand. He wandered through vague sorrow (in his mind) before slapping himself into thinking about something else (in his mind). All at once, he fell on how their hands felt in his own. On his left, Mari's had was the same size as his, cold, slipped gently into his palm. Her pinky was intertwined with his and she kept squeezing every once in a while. She was soft and gentle with him, the way his mother was. Jesus, San missed her. On his right, Wooyoung's hand was bigger, warmer, he had an calluses on his hands from his drum sticks. He quietly, carefully slipped his fingers between San's and held on, tighter than Mari was. It struck him, vaguely and without pretense, that Wooyoung was his rock. And it struck him, all at once, that he hadn't been as intimate as he had been with the two of them today with anyone, not even Yunho, for a month. Before he noticed, Mari and Wooyoung had stopped in front of the apartment. Wooyoung moved behind San, wrapping his arms around San's body from behind, while Mari faced him and pulled tissues out of her purse. She wiped at his cheeks and nose, getting rid of tears. 

"Talk to me, San." Wooyoung hooked his chin over San's shoulder.

San shoved his hands into his pockets, fumbling when Wooyoung did the same and twined their hands together again, "I just... I haven't held anyone's hand in a month, and it's nice to just have physical contact, you know? And Yunho was so distant that I haven't even been this intimate with anyone and it's just kind of overwhelming that you two so readily touch me? With no hesitation. I..." He trailed off with a sigh. Wooyoung pulled him impossibly closer to his chest while Mari gently took his face in her hands.

"We're in tune enough with you to know what you need when you need it," She said, "Wooyoung more-so than me, but I still see you."

San pulled in a breath, "Why are you in my head?" 

"She's a psych major," Wooyoung said into San's neck, "It's her job to be."

As Wooyoung settled his head farther onto San's shoulder, their neighbor stepped around them with a sneer. 

"I would suggest taking whatever this is inside before you get hazed for it," She said, glowering at San.

"Sure thing, Barbara," Mari smiled at her, overly sweet, and turned back to San and Wooyoung, "Sannie, baby, can we fuck you inside?"

San had to bite down on the insides of his cheeks to stifle his laughter. He could feel puffs of air on his neck from where Wooyoung was giggling.

"Sure," He said, and pulled Wooyoung along to the door. Wooyoung yanked his hand out of San's pocket, keys at the ready, and unlocked the door before pushing San through. Mari followed, closing it behind her and all three of them dissolved into silent laughter. 

"That was great," Wooyoung said, "Oh, man, I am never gonna be able to look at that woman the same."

Detaching himself from San, he strode into the kitchen, fumbled around in the freezer for a moment, and then closed it with a frown, "We don't have ice cream."

"Its fine, Woo, popcorn is just as good," San said, flapping a hand. He hung up his jacket and managed to pry off his boots before shuffling into the kitchen.

"You're the popcorn wizard, you get to make the popcorn." Wooyoung said and handed the supplies to San from in the cupboard. As he made the popcorn, he observed where Mari stood in the doorway, slightly detached from them, watching with a small smile. He watched her make eye contact with Wooyoung and smile wider and he couldn't help but feel like he was intruding on something private. And then Wooyoung hopped up onto the counter beside San and tapped his shoulder to show him a meme and it was over.

"Are those Wooyoung's pants?" Mari asked him as he walked into the living room. Her and Wooyoung were sitting on the couch, an odd amount of space between them. Wooyoung had pulled Netflix up on the television.

"Yeah." San said and set the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table. Wooyoung patted the couch space between them.

"We're gonna make a nice _San_ dwich and watch Into The Badlands and you're gonna tell us what happened to Yunho," San hated how Wooyoung put emphasis on the "san" of sandwich, but let himself be pulled down onto the couch and spooned by Mari. Wooyoung flopped himself down on top of San and pushed San's head down onto Mari's shoulder, "He looks cute, right?" Wooyoung asked her.

"Yeah, he'll stun all the boys," She said.

"He accused me of that not working 'cause I'm still functioning just fine."

Mari snorted, "Well, he's not wrong. You  _are_ just fine." 

Wooyoung scowled and reached for the popcorn, "Play the show." San petted his hair when he set his head back down and proceeded to completely zone out. 

Three and a half episodes later, when San was drifting off and Wooyoung was snoring gently on his chest, Mari lifted her hand up and swept San's hair back from his forehead.

"I have to go, but before I do, what happened?" She asked gently.

"He likes Mingi." Is all San said. Mari kept petting his hair.

"I'm sorry, hon'," San liked it when they called him Hon', "It'll work itself out. I promise."

San gently lifted his body up so she could slip out from under him. Kneeling on the floor, she kissed Wooyoung's forehead and then San's, wishing him a quiet goodbye. Wooyoung shifted and grumbled, his fingers digging into San's shirt, and lifted his head up.

"Whsgongon?" He mumbled. San reached up and pushed his hair out of his face for him.

"You fell asleep," San said, "Mari just left."

Wooyoung grumbled again and pushed himself up to sit. After a minute of staring blankly at the television, crumpled up between San's legs, he stood and held his hand out to San, "Real nap. Come on."

San took his hand and was immediately struck with how similar this was to how he and Yunho were before they got together. Except when this had happened with Yunho, it had lead to sex. And then a relationship. He let Wooyoung hoist him up from the couch and drag him into his bedroom. Wooyoung reached for San's belt and he tensed up, slightly raising his hands to defend himself because God, no this is not what he wanted. 

"I'm not trying to get into your pants, if that's what you're wondering. I already told you I don't want your dick in my hand today," Wooyoung reassured him, "You'll be comfier without my pants on."

Yeah, okay. That made more sense. Yes. Stop thinking, San.

And so he relaxed, let Wooyoung take his pants off, as odd as it was, and flopped down on the bed while Wooyoung peeled his own (very tight and leather) pants off of himself. And if San maybe looked at Wooyoung's butt (it was very nice and round! give him a break, he was allowed to appreciate a nice butt!), that was none of his business. 

"You have a cute butt," Oh, Jesus, why did he say that? What the fuck? And Wooyoung was just getting onto the bed and now he was hesitating and San just ruined everything.

"Thank you," Wooyoung chirped, and commenced his lying down, "So do you."

"Objectively or subjectively?" Wow, San needed to stop flirting. _Why was he flirting with Wooyoung?_ He and his mouth were two very different entities, each with their own autonomy, they just happened to be attached to each other. Once Wooyoung had settled himself on his stomach, he looked at San.

"Both," Wooyoung said with no pretense or explanation, just shifted a little and pulled San closer to him, chucking a leg over San's waist, "Go to sleep. I'll wake you up and we can go to practice later."

San snaked his arms around Wooyoung and shoved his face into Wooyoung's chest. It would be okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from Ever Since New York by Harry Styles


	2. [he's] drivin' me crazy (but i'm into it, i'm kinda into it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello there is penis talk in this just be warned; graphic depictions of precum?  
> also minor existential panic attack thingy and its perpetual through like most of the chapter  
>  basically san is Very Confused emotionally for a while

There were many things that San considered "none of his business". For example: whatever Seonghwa was spending his money on for Hongjoong; Wooyoung and Mari's sex lives; whatever Yunho and Mingi were up to at this moment; the state of the Zambian government. All logical, respectful things to keep himself out of.

But it was very hard to retract back into his head and say to himself "that's none of my business" when Wooyoung was octopus-hugged around him with his _very hard_ _erection_ pressing into San's stomach. This was too much input all in one day and he did _not_ need Wooyoung's dick hard anywhere near him. He tried to shift, extract himself from Wooyoung so it truly could be _none of his business_ , but it proved useless bordering on disastrous. While he struggled, Wooyoung's erection rubbed against his stomach, and, unsurprisingly, Wooyoung let out a little sigh. San grumbled as Wooyoung started to shift his hips. This was absolutely not ideal. He pinched Wooyoung's side. Jesus Christ, _why_ did that make Wooyoung go _harder_? Everything sucked, and San didn't want to make everything _worse_ , but he couldn't just stay here. So he made a split decision and smacked Wooyoung's arm.

"Mmm?" Wooyoung stilled and loosened his limbs.

"Are you aware?" San asked him, very,  _ very _ quietly.

"M'I aware of'wha?" Wooyoung grumbled into San's hair before pulling back to look him blearily in the face. His face scrunched up a little as his dick dug into San's stomach.

"Can we get ready for practice, or do you need to come?" San began shifting himself  _ away _ from Wooyoung, intent on leaving as soon as possible.

Wooyoung let him go and rolled heavily onto his back and San looked pointedly away from how his underwear tightened in the front and the precum stain darkened the front of them. San brought his hand up to his own shirt and felt a wet patch on his stomach. His brain was receiving way too much input, this was too much for him to deal with and he needed to get out as soon as possible. He could feel his chest getting hot.

"You go get ready," Wooyoung said, "I'll just be a minute." 

"Good luck," San said awkwardly before he stood and fled the room. Why was he acting like this all of the sudden? It had been literally four hours ago that he'd had a boyfriend. And it's not like any of this had made him horny, just exceedingly embarrassed which was also out of character. He stood, utterly lost in his own head, in the hall outside of Wooyoung's room. When he walked into his own room, he stopped in front of his mirror and examined himself. He looked utterly disheveled and pale, his dull red hair worked up into a mess on one side the only color to him. His face was slightly swollen, one of his turtleneck sleeves was pushed up and it didn't take him long to see the wet spot on his stomach when he could feel it. Wow, San, you're fucked up. He sighed and pulled the shirt off. He could feel the wet spot drag across his face, could smell it when it hit his nose and it occurred to him that  _ that's Wooyoung's precum and you need to stop thinking about it, San _ . 

Chucking the shirt into his laundry pile, he retrieved a pair of black sweatpants and tank top, as low profile as possible. Slipping them on, he looked in the mirror again. This was Wooyoung's shirt. San shoved his hand into his hair and tugged a little. Get yourself together, go to practice, calm down,  _ stop thinking _ . 

"You ready, San?" Wooyoung asked through the door.

San grabbed his phone off the dresser, shoved his feet into his trainers and opened the door, "Yeah. Shall we?" 

Wooyoung nodded, slightly robotic, and lead the way. He stopped, handing San the fluffy jacket, and opened his mouth, "I don't... Want us to be weird? After that."

San shook his head, "Don't worry, Woo. It's fine and I understand that shit happens sometimes. It's no biggie."

"Why are you acting so weird, then?" Wooyoung asked, "It's like I tried to jump you." 

San sighed, scrubbed his hand over his face, "I guess it's just weird for me because it's never happened before in all the times we've slept together and I  _ just _ broke up with Yunho and it was strange having your  _ very hard dick _ digging into my stomach. Just give me like the rest of the day and I'll be fine."

Wooyoung looked like he wanted to say something and his mouth was hanging slightly open.

"Woo, you look like a fish. Come on. Let it be." San punched Wooyoung's shoulder and walked past him out of the apartment.

The whole way to the studio, Wooyoung was quiet. Until he wasn't and he grabbed San by the shoulder on their way in.

"Are you sure it's fine? I feel like I crossed some boundary and I don't know what it is," He said quietly. San smiled, halfway amused, halfway irked and snaked his hands around Wooyoung's waist, lightly and like he almost wasn't there.

"You didn't cross any boundaries, and I'm not offended. It's okay, Woo," San said, and set his head lightly down on Wooyoung's shoulder just to prove his point, "Glass Animals or Lauv?"

Without warning, Wooyoung slipped his very cold hands into San's jacket and down San's bare arms. Rearing back, San gasped and screeched and retracted as far from Wooyoung's cold, evil hands as he could.

"Dickhead!" He hissed.

"Sucks to suck, bitchboy," Wooyoung said and sauntered past san, "I want Glass Animals."

"Who are you calling bitchboy? I didn't get a boner in my sleep and hump me about it!" San punched him and chased him into the practice room. Wooyoung only laughed and moved calmly toward the stereo system to plug in his phone. 

Dancing helped. It had been a while since San had been able to zone out this hard. Doing nothing did the trick for a little, but it gave him time to think and thinking was bad for him sometimes.  When he danced, San had no choice but to stop thinking about what bothered him and focus on what was important. He could focus on where his feet touched the ground, feel the raw energy pull through his muscles, put his brain to work on moving him into the right position. San breathed in and out with utter control over himself, over his mind, simply feeling himself move. When he looked up toward the mirror, he made eye contact with himself and saw what he needed; fire, determination. Calm. Hands snaked over his eyes and he was pushed again into the feeling of movement, of contact to the air on his skin, the vague strain on his muscles from moving exactly the way he wanted. The music was secondary and San's current state a secondary nature to himself, only momentarily broken when he and Wooyoung spiraled past one another, their choreography nearly colliding in their sharp and practiced dance. He could do it with his eyes closed. Wooyoung probably could as well, and they would still get that one step right every time. 

And then, all of a sudden, San realized what came next. They'd made this choreography three weeks prior, and Wooyoung had been all buddy buddy when he'd turned, looked at San, and said, "I should pretend to kiss you." San had replied with, "Just kiss my neck," and they'd laughed and their conversation had been over. At that point, it'd been a funny joke. A little 'ha ha shits and giggles my dude friend is kissing my neck we'll do it for the girls who like that shit.' And now San felt like he wanted to light himself on fire and he regretted vaguely lying to Wooyoung and his entire body was buzzing with adrenaline as he watched Wooyoung come up behind him in the mirror.

Wooyoung carefully and ever so gently slipped his left hand over San's eyes and San was left in the darkness. It made him infinitely calmer for a moment until Wooyoung pulled him back, bodies flush, and sunk his teeth into San's neck. Quite literally. Wooyoung bit down and pulled a little bit before letting San go and moving away for the rest of the song. San was very gently screaming (in his mind) the words "what the fuck? What the Fuck?!" and trying very hard to conceal his gentle screaming and not let it come out of his mouth. He glanced sidelong into the mirror and could see both his bright red face and the bruise present on his neck. Fuck, how is he gonna explain this to Hongjoong? Actually, no, good idea. Hongjoong. San jotted that down in his mind. Talk to Hongjoong. He fell back into his focus.

When Wooyoung finally stopped, turned off the music, mopped off his sweat, San looked out the window at the now dark sky. They'd been at this for a while and he was exhausted. His greatest desire at that moment was to fall into his bed and go to sleep. But he ran the laundry list of things he still had to do through his mind and groaned. 

"Do you think we'll be ready for the final on Friday? I do," Wooyoung asked him, "You're hella spacey, though. You good?"

"Yeah," San began, scrubbing his hand over his face, "I'm just exhausted after today."

Wooyoung hummed and San could see something strange in his gaze, "I don't blame you. Can we stop by the supermarket on our way home? There's a few things I need to get for dinner."

"Sure thing," San said, and took his jacket from Wooyoung. 

San was glad his fluffy coat had a high collar, glad that Wooyoung had bit him in the junction between neck and shoulder and not any higher, glad that they were out in the cold so he could clear his head. He'd been doing that a lot today, clearing his head, in various ways that had proven ineffective, and he felt as though it might become his perpetual state. When Wooyoung started started putting items in the basket slung over San's elbow, San fell back down to earth.

"What are you making?" He asked quietly. He could feel himself slowly falling asleep standing up, felt his shoulders slumping and his legs trying to sit down.

Wooyoung carded his hand through San's hair, ruffling it gently. Wooyoung was warm. He was impossibly warm at all times and his hand on San's head lulled San into a warm, fuzzy, tired state. When Wooyoung moved his hand down to San's cheek, San closed his eyes and leaned into it. 

"I'm making a buttload of Hard Time Stew so that we can have leftovers. Don't fall asleep yet, San," He said, quietly and gently, rubbing his thumb across San's cheekbone. Which was normal, but San's brain was taking Normal Wooyoung as Different Wooyoung. What Different Wooyoung was, San didn't know, but he was going to block it out of his mind for as long as possible. He trailed quietly behind Wooyoung for the rest of their store search, accepting the tugs at his arm whenever Wooyoung set something in the basket. When Wooyoung waved the pre-packaged oranges at him, he chuckled because he knew what was coming next.

"I hate corporations so fuckin' much!" He whisper-shouted.

"I know you do," San said, "It is high time you realize that nobody gives a shit about the environment and your best bet is to just not buy shit in plastic."

"I know that. I'm allowed to complain, though!" Wooyoung seethed. San pushed his shoulder.

"Come on, dude," He said, and made his way to the checkout.

Wooyoung paid for everything because "no, san you're the one having the hard day", and he gently slotted their fingers together on the walk home. It felt right, and normal, and San felt like everything might just be okay because this  _ was _ normal. Wooyoung had held his hand while San was dating Yunho and it had been normal because that's just how Wooyoung was. There was no reason to freak out over any of this. They fell into routine at home, both in the kitchen making dinner despite Wooyoung's repeated attempts to shoo San out because "san, for christ's sake let me take care of you!". Instead, San smiled mischievously and began cutting up vegetables, whistling jokingly in Wooyoung's general direction. It earned him a light shove to the shoulder.

"Hey!" San glared at Wooyoung, "I have a knife!" And he brandished it toward him.

"Don't threaten me with it!" Wooyoung retreated to the stove on the other side of the kitchen. 

They finished in relative peace and quiet, Wooyoung offering up the spoon full of broth to San to check the taste. He accused San, albeit jokingly, of being a "picky bastard" when San scrunched his nose and raised an eyebrow.

"Hot sauce, Wooyoung." Was all he said. 

They ate in front of the television, shoulder to shoulder, under the same blanket. It was the same one that San's mother had made for them in eighth grade. Wooyoung had kept it at his house, draped over the end of his bed, because that's where he and San had spent the most time over the summer. When Wooyoung had moved for high school, he took the blanket with him, and San had mentally said his final goodbyes to it. Five years later, in his sophomore year of college, in the blazing summer heat, San had walked into his new dorm room to find Wooyoung, shirtless and drenched with sweat, unpacking cardboard boxes of his belongings. San hadn't recognized him at first, mostly because he'd had his back turned to the front door, but the first words he'd said were "this place needs a fucking air conditioner". San had laughed and then paused because wait, he knew that voice. When Wooyoung stood and turned to him, he'd smiled wide and watched the recognition blink into Wooyoung's eyes. The next week, when he peeked into Wooyoung's room, he'd seen Wooyoung curled up under the blanket, sleeping fitfully, and, without thinking, had stepped in and crawled under the blanket with him, pulling Wooyoung to his chest.

Wooyoung had kept the blanket for the last eight years, and it made San immeasurably happy.  

After finishing their dinner, they both fell asleep on the couch until San woke up, half an hour later, and dragged a half-asleep Wooyoung to his room. He curled them both up under the blanket, spooning Wooyoung from behind just in case their were any more unsolicited erections, and listened to Wooyoung's steady breathing.

Everything would right itself in due time. San knew that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these chapters will take me a while to update because i have approximately no time and i'm working on other projects  
> anyway, the fact that so may people like this makes me very happy
> 
> all of my chapter titles are from harry styles songs; this one is from Kiwi


	3. we don’t talk about it (it’s somethin we don’t do)

San woke up feeling gross. On the right side of his face, his hair was greasy and stuck to his forehead. His face was pushed into the top of Wooyoung's head and he could feel Wooyoung's stale sweat on is nose. Rolling over, he faced his bedside clock, arm numb and trapped under Wooyoung. 7:00. Monday. He was awake early for once. Gently, ever so gently, he extracted his arm from under Wooyoung and sat up, rubbing his eyes. In the mirror on the wall San could see he looked like a mess.

It was worse in the bathroom.

Under the bright lights, San could see the shadows under his eyes, could see his greasy hair and the dead pallor of his skin. He could feel himself hunching over. Quickly, his eyes flitted to the bruise on his neck. That would have to wait until he was more mentally capable to comprehend it. Instead of dwelling on it, he turned on the shower and stripped down, getting in before the water was even warm. He stood with his eyes closed for an unmeasured amount of time, soaking, before he heard shuffling in the bathroom. Turning around, San saw Wooyoung brushing his teeth. That wasn't out of the ordinary; it was comforting. Domestic. He turned back to the water and grabbed his shampoo off the shelf. With his eyes closed, San heard the shower curtain slide open and felt a finger poke at his neck. It hurt. Just a little.

"Ow," He deadpanned, eyes still closed, his hands buried in his soapy hair.

"You're lying," Wooyoung said, smiling, "You like it."

"Nope!" San shoved his head back under the water and rinsed is hair as Wooyoung poked and prodded at his neck.

"It's pretty, San. I like it," Wooyoung's voice was gravelly.

"Please stop talking. I hate you," San was thoroughly mortified and he could feel himself getting red. This was not ideal.

Wooyoung was giggling, his face split into a wide, happy smile when San looked back at him. And San didn't feel weird. That surprised him. This wasn't weird. He looked at the smile on Wooyoung's face, at Wooyoung's wet (very naked) body standing there in front of him, felt Wooyoung's fingers slip across his shoulders. It all felt right.

"Wash my hair, bitchboy?" Wooyoung asked quietly and turned around. And the feeling was solidified.

"Sure thing, asshole," San said. He grabbed his own shampoo and slathered it through Wooyoung's hair, savoring the domesticity that had returned overnight. Digging his fingers into Wooyoung's scalp, he scratched and tugged in tandem and let Wooyoung set his head back on San's shoulder. They stood there together, shampoo slowly dripping out of Wooyoung's hair and down San's back, for what felt like fifteen minutes before San looked sideways to see Wooyoung's face. It was peaceful, his eyes closed, body gently leaning into San's, and San could feel himself beginning to rock back and forth as he slung his arms around Wooyoung's waist. He let Wooyoung stand there, fall asleep, "rest his eyes" the way he liked to when they were in the shower, joined him in the eye resting, until he heard a knock on the wall of the bathroom.

"You menfolk want breakfast? I have stuff for pancakes and it's early enough," Mari said, looking fondly at them through the shower curtain. San smiled at her and nudged Wooyoung back awake before rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair.

"Hi, baby," Wooyoung said through a smile, "I want food, Sanie"

"Food it is then," San whispered, "We need to finish showering first, though."

Wooyoung hummed, quiet and content, and let his head fall back onto San's shoulder, "You do it."

With a sigh, San obliged him, lathering a bar of soap over his chest and back and stomach, before stopping at his pelvis, "You get to wash your own dick. I'm not touching you, bitch."

Snorting, Wooyoung stood up straight and moved away from San, grabbing the soap from him and lathering up his hands with a glare.

"Do you really want me to touch your dick that bad?" San deadpanned. He heard Mari snort, choke, and begin to cough. She raised her head up from the sink and wiped off her face, hacking up the water and laughing in between coughs.

"I'm gonna go make pancakes," She wheezed as she patted her face dry, "You two... have fun." And then she left them standing under the shower spray, staring slightly confusedly at her retreating back. Unsure of what was so very funny, San delved into what had occurred, falling back into the 'I don't know if this makes me feel weird but it certainly confuses me' state he'd been in his entire previous evening. Mari's laughter had sounded almost... knowing, and San hoped that she wasn't laughing because Wooyoung _did_ want San to touch his dick and had secretly confided that in her. Because that would be weird. And would definitely make everything uncomfortable for everyone, he supposed. San vaguely felt Wooyoung pass the soap over his back, his chest, and jumped when Wooyoung's hand came in contact with his dick.

"Wooyoung!" He shrieked, blocking his dick from Wooyoung's encroaching grabbers. And yeah, this wasn't Out Of The Ordinary, because this was just how Wooyoung was and San always shoved it into his duffel bag of Wooyoung Things that he had yet to figure out. When they were younger, San would tease him about it, and gradually it just became a running joke, "Don't fondle me, asshole!"

Wooyoung laughed, full-bellied and bright for 7:30 in the morning, and shoved San under the water, "You like it."

"No! No I do not!" San spluttered slightly when Wooyoung stuck his hand under the shower head to direct the water into San's mouth, "Just like I _don't_ like the hickey you've given me!"

He emerged just in time to see Wooyoung pout and managed to plant a slap to his back as he climbed out of the shower and grabbed a towel. Turning off the water and grabbing a towel for himself, San dried off and sauntered past Wooyoung (who was checking himself out in the mirror) into his bedroom. He really didn't Feel Like It today. It wasn't his intent to channel that, but looking at the striped turtleneck (hickey protection, he was being proactive) and soft trousers, he decided that it was just how he would be. There was no point to starting over when he was comfy and warm, and he decided he would keep his blue knee socks to himself because that was his business.

In the kitchen, he was greeted by a much less dressed Wooyoung and a plate of pancakes on the kitchen counter, soaked with syrup. He tucked in and watched Wooyoung slowly sip a cup of coffee, watched Mari slide him a plate of pancakes, watched Wooyoung sleepily begin shoving them into his mouth.

"How do you eat after brushing your teeth in the morning?"

Wooyoung looked at him. Well, less 'look' because his eyes were closed, but San understood the intention, "What?"

"How do you eat after brushing your teeth in the morning?" He was granted a shrug and a grumble of what he assumed was 'I don't know'.

When he watched the clock strike 7:50, San decided it would probably be a good idea to get started on their morning commute. It only took ten minutes, but Wooyoung liked to whine and mope and drag his feet about being cold and tired and wanting to go home and San had to grab his hand and drag him along more often than not to get him to class on time. Standing, he shuffled into Wooyoung’s room, followed closely by Mari to retrieve clothes for Wooyoung.

“Did you tell him what happened?” Mari asked him quietly with her hand on his arm. He shook his head.

“My head has been all over the place. I’ve completely forgotten to do a bunch of stuff,” He said and frowned. Mari nodded and absentmindedly brushed San’s hair out of his face, trailing her hand down his neck and pulling down his turtleneck to brush her fingers over the hickey.

“Wooyoung is marking his territory, I see?” She raised her eyebrows and gave him a very greasy, _very_ suggestive smirk before pressing her thumb into the bruise.

“I am not his territory!” San slapped her hands away and made accidental eye contact with Wooyoung who was shuffling into the room (and who immediately raised his eyebrows at San’s words).

“You’re more my territory than she is,” Wooyoung said as he stepped around them to his dresser, gifting them both a gentle butt pat on his way by. San looked at him incredulously.

“I am not!”

“You are,” Wooyoung assured him, “I’ve known you since middle school and Mari since freshman year of college. You’ve been mine longer than she has.”

“Wooyoung, Yunho broke up with me _yesterday!_ Now is not the time to be flirting with me, my guy. Besides, we have to get to class and you like to be a bitch about walking in the cold.”

“Yeah. Yep. I know, I’m going.” Wooyoung's face was red.

Mari kept her hand rested on San’s neck as she looked him in the face. She was shorter than both of them, and her hand kept San looking at her. Her soft fingertips inched around the front of his throat and he felt grounded all of the sudden with her hand just resting there. At the base of his throat. Not squeezing, just resting. He saw something spark in her eyes before she brushed her thumb over his Adam’s Apple and said softly to him:

“We’re here for you, San, whenever and however you need us to be.”

He smiled at her and let his head fog up, focusing solely on her fingers pressing into his skin. Only when Wooyoung slotted his fingers through San’s did San clamber out of his fog. Mari grabbed his other hand like she had the day before and pulled them both downstairs. She threw Wooyoung’s coat over his shoulders as he pulled on his shoes and San grabbed his own fluffy jacket.

It was horribly, utterly cold when the front door was opened, and Wooyoung darted back inside to get a scarf. With a lot of complaining and cajoling and tugging, San and Mari managed to get Wooyoung halfway to campus before Mari broke off for her job, planting a kiss to Wooyoung’s mouth and wishing San luck. Wooyoung immediately shuffled closer to San, burying his face into the fur of San’s jacket and relying on San’s (impeccable) navigational skills to bring him to class. San deposited him at his class with a hug before prying Wooyoung’s arms from around his body and stepping next door to his own class. San wasn’t paying attention, thoughts lost in the trivial about his lunch and dinner and how Wooyoung’s day would go, so much so that he collided gently with someone’s larger body, knocking their bag out of their hand.

‘Shit, I’m sorry.’ He crouched down and hefted the bag off the floor, handing it to Yunho. Wait. Yunho? Yes, that was in fact Yunho staring down at him, at his turtleneck, through the turtleneck, at the hickey on San’s neck. Yunho with a little smile gracing his features as if it were any other day where they would kiss as they passed and he would grin at San and be on his way. Except he was staring at San’s neck and San knew that Yunho had some sort of creepy hickey radar on all of his friends and he reached his hand up and pulled down the collar of San’s shirt. And San wanted to _cry_. Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to be and Yunho would definitely read this wrong and San still loved him.

“Impressive, San,” Yunho said, “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you too bad.”

And he sounded so genuinely happy that San could feel his chest heating up and he couldn’t speak. He just stood, trying not to cry, until a hand grabbed his and pulled him past Yunho to the back of the room. San was grateful for two things: Hongjoong and long intervals between classes.

Hongjoong sat him down in his desk and laid a hand in his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” He asked San as he sat down next to him. In two seconds, he had tissues in hand and was dabbing at San’s cheeks. San shook his head.

“I don’t know at the moment,” San whispered.

“I know it’s a ways away, but do you wanna meet at lunch? We can talk about this then.”

“Maybe. I might go home for lunch since I don’t have any more classes after.” San laid his head down on Hongjoong’s shoulder, “I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine, San, but talking about it might help you process whatever is going on.” Taking San’s hand, Hongjoong swiped his thumb over the palm in soothing circles, “It’s gonna be okay.”

The class couldn’t be over soon enough. For the whole fifty minutes, Hongjoong [bless his heart] took notes while San checked out. He zoned out to the sound of Hongjoon’s pen on the paper beside him and on Hongjoong’s perfect side profile, nose gently scrunched up and tongue poking out of the side of his mouth. Seonghwa was lucky, San decided. San was unlucky, San decided. He was screwed now that Yunho had seen the Ha Ha Dance Practice Hickey. Yunho probably thought that San had gone out and gotten laid the night before. Yunho probably thought that he’s meant nothing to San (which probably sucked after yesterday’s conversation). Yunho didn’t know how much San still loved him. That was the worst part. San loved Yunho. He didn’t expect to get over him in a day, of course not, but all of his other relationships had been that easy. San supposed that he’d never loved anyone as much as he’d loved Yunho. They’d been serious. They were steady. They’d loved each other. Until Yunho had dropped the ball on that one. It could only be assumed that Yunho had been seeing Mingi while San was still in the picture. Or at least hanging out with him to some extent. San supposed that might border on cheating. But he still couldn’t bring himself to hate Yunho. Or Mingi, for that matter. They were friends. San and Mingi had known each other for three years and had been roommates for the first. Maybe what made it so terrible was that Yunho still wanted to be his friend after breaking his heart. He didn’t really want to have to deal with Yunho for a while. He didn’t really want to deal with anyone for a while.

The class bell roused him from his wallowing sadness. Hongjoong grabbed his hand and led him to his next class, picking up stroking his thumb across San’s palm again. Lead across campus, San wasn’t expecting to be handed off immediately, but at his next class, Hongjoong pressed San’s hand into Wooyoung’s wordlessly. They exchanged a pointed look before San spoke up.

“I’m gonna go home for lunch; meet me outside?” He said to Hongjoong.

“Of course, darling.” Hongjoong said and pressed a gentle kiss to San’s forehead.      

Wooyoung, like the angel he was, tugged San along to their seats, never releasing his hand.      

“I’ll take notes for you, alright?” He asked San, lips close to San’s ear, “You can do whatever. Sleep if you need to.”      

“Thank you,” San said quietly.

Wooyoung threaded his fingers through San’s, like always, and pulled his notes out with his other hand, settling into his chair when San leaned on him. San was glad they had bench seats so he could cozy in under Wooyoung’s arm and rest against his shoulder. When he draped his hands over Wooyoung’s thigh (Wooyoung’s hand still in his), Wooyoung squeezed their fingers between his legs, a playful thing they’d adopted years ago. San pinched him and Oh. Okay. Did Wooyoung make that noise? Somewhere between a gasp and a whimper. San hadn’t realized he’d pinched that hard. He also hadn’t realized that Different Wooyoung would be making a comeback so soon. And so, like a smart person, San did it again.

There it was again, an odd, choked off groan, barely uttered before Wooyoung snaked his hand down and grabbed San’s wrist.

“Stop that or I won’t be able to concentrate,” He growled, “Let me take notes without you harassing me.”

That was… weird. Wooyoung was never snappy. This was normal, the hand holding and thigh pinching and any other array of stupid things they did. So why was Normal Wooyoung being Different Wooyoung? San had though he was perceiving Wooyoung differently because his own life was so up in arms, but this was real. Wooyoung was actually acting weird. So San didnt keep pinching him, because he wasn’t an asshole and he didn’t want to get his head bit off by Pissy Wooyoung. Instead, he closed his eyes slowly as Wooyoung’s hand left his wrist and allowed himself to drift off. Not all the way, because Wooyoung’s hand kept squeezing his in a regular pattern, but enough to rest.

Halfway through class, San returned to consciousness as Wooyoung shifted his body around. Head lolling, he straightened up and realized he had been running his fingernail along the inner seam of Wooyoung’s trousers. It must’ve tickled. When Wooyoung kept moving, San thought he might be hallucinating, but as he settled (finally), he knew he wasn’t.

This was the second time in two days that this had happened. And, like, he didn’t think badly toward Wooyoung for these unsolicited erections; Wooyoung had waxed poetic about his over-active dick more than once to San. It was still none of San’s business. He sat up straight and pulled his hand out of the clutch of Wooyoung’s thighs, pointedly ignoring the pout on his face.

“What’s wrong, Sannie?” Wooyoung asked quietly.

“Please keep your penis away from my hands.” He looked at Wooyoung.

“Sorry,” Wooyoung said and slumped down to push his cheek into San’s shoulder.

And that was it. They were okay. Nothing was different because this was Normal Wooyoung and he wasn’t _actually_ trying to make San uncomfortable, that was just San at the moment. San set his hand back on Wooyoung’s knee and for the rest of the class they were peaceful. For the rest of the day, they were peaceful. When lunch came, San bid a relatively uncomfortable Wooyoung (because his erection was still there and San couldn’t help but make fun of him) farewell. Hongjoong took his hand as they left, San admittedly more chipper than before, and they tugged and skipped their way back to San’s apartment. As he slid his key into the lock, Hongjoong held his shoulder.

“I love you like you’re my baby, San,” He said quietly, “Don’t forget that, okay?”

San stopped, pulled his hand out of Hongjoong’s only to settle it on the side of his neck, “I know, Joong-mama,” He pulled Hongjoong into a tight hug, “I love you. A lot, mama.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i have returned from the dead. this chapter is lie probably horrid because it took me literally two? months to write and i don't feel like proofreading. 
> 
> n e way i hope this is enjoyable bc I'm just writing absolute shit for my own benefit
> 
> title is from Meet Me In The Hallway


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